La Ville de Romance
by brokenmoonlight
Summary: Howard and Vince go on holiday to Paris and end up making a huge, life-changing decision. Majorly sticky sweet fluff. Minor sex scene.


**A/N: ****Bonjour, mes chéris ! First and foremost, this fic was inspired by thievinggypsy over on LiveJournal, because her beautifully gorgeous fic 'Stockholm Syndrome' (you MUST read it! It's about the guys in the Mint Royale video Noel and Julian did) had a chapter with Howard speaking a little bit of French, and I found that imagining Howard speak French was rather sexy, so this is the result! I'm rather rubbish at French, so I used Yahoo!'s Babelfish translator, so I'm hoping it worked all right, otherwise those of you who can speak French will think I'm a bit of a nutter. Saying that, I have written the translations at the end of the story. I've put the number at the end of each section of French, so just find the corresponding one at the end to see what it's supposed to say in English. Sorry about the numbers, by the way. They'll probably seem quite intrusive stuck in as they are, but I only have NeoOffice and not Word, and so I can't work out the footnotes thing properly. I don't know that much about Paris either, having only been there once years ago, so I've got a lot of stuff from the internet, and I know this one-shot is very long, but as Vince and Howard are on holiday, I wanted them to do as much as possible.**

**One last thing – this is supposed to be a bit of a whirlwind, and what happens towards the end might seem a bit unbelievable but I figured, because it's the Boosh, anything goes, so that said, I hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I have much love and respect for Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding and would never steal from them and pass it off as my own. The Mighty Boosh and all associated characters belong to them.**

**xxxx**

Howard was very pleased with himself. After their disastrous holiday a couple of years ago, which nearly saw them mated with a deranged yeti, Howard had finally booked a holiday he was sure Vince would love. The good news was that it was a long weekend at his uncle's recently acquired co-ownership of a hotel in Paris - a beautiful old building overlooking the Seine, with stunning views over the city. The bad news was that it was high-season, and as such, only one room could be spared, which meant Naboo and Bollo would either have to stay behind, or arrange their own travel and accommodation.

Howard open the door to the flat and made his way up the stairs, dodging a pair of Vince's boots which had been strewn haphazardly on the bottom step. As he made his way into the living room - which was decorated in what can only be described as 'seventies throwback retro chic' with its headache inducing wallpaper and mish-mash of ornaments, paintings and a rather tacky looking bar in the corner of the room with was shaped like a ship's bow – Vince, who was lounging on the black-and-white swirly patterned sofa, raised a hand in greeting, not taking his eyes off of his latest copy of Cheekbone. Howard walked over to him and pulled it out of his hands.

"Oi! I was readin' that!"

Howard perched down next to Vince and pulled an envelope out of his pocket.

"Don't start complaining, sir, or you won't get this," he said, waving around the envelope with a silly grin on his face.

Vince's eyes lit up, and he tried to snatch it out of Howard's hands. "What is it?"

"Hold on, little man," Howard chided, opening the envelope and pulling out a pair of tickets. He handed one to Vince, who took it gleefully and studied it with a look of child-like wonderment.

"No way! Eurostar tickets to Paris! That's genius! Hang on – why are we going to Paris?"

"Well, it turns out my uncle took over ownership of a rather prestigious hotel with a friend of his at the end of last year, and has reserved us a room – all expenses paid. Thing is, there was only room for us. They're fully booked. I mean, the others can come if they can find somewhere..."

But Vince had given up listening and had bounced off of the sofa, now rocking backwards and forwards on the heels of his cowboy boots, talking over Howard at a hundred miles an hour about Paris fashion and what to pack.

"When are we going?"

"Saturday, until Tuesday. A long weekend, which means we'll have -"

"Saturday?! As in **this** Saturday? As in, the day after tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Jesus, Howard! I'd better start packing. No, wait. I'll pop out to Topshop for some essentials and **then **I'll start packing." With that, Vince rushed off to grab his wallet, leaving Howard to sigh heavily for a few seconds, before deciding it would be best to go with him, as he was sure Vince's list of essentials didn't include sensible things like sun cream or a first aid kit.

xxxx

Looking around the interior of St Pancras International in awe, Vince more than once nearly tripped over the suitcase he was wheeling behind him, which should have been an easy thing to avoid, except that while Vince was slowing himself down, he was still pulling his case at top speed. Happy, smiling people bustled by, some about to embark on their holidays, others greeting friends and relatives, and Vince could feel his excitement growing by the second – especially when he spotted the sign for the lounge.

"Howard – Howard! Can we go in there?" he said, pointing to the sign.

Howard, who was trying his best to steer Vince over towards the check-in gates, couldn't help but smile at his friend's enthusiasm. He felt quite lucky, actually, because not once had Vince complained about any of the travel arrangements or the restrictions on his luggage. He **did **think it was a bit strange, but he decided the best thing to do would be to not dwell on it, because he was sure it wouldn't last forever.

"Soon, little man. We have to go through check-in first – you can't get to it otherwise."

They put their tickets into the barriers and waited for them to be read. A thought struck Vince as he stood there – a sudden occurrence which might make their holiday a bit difficult.

"Howard, I can't speak French. How are we gonna ask for things?"

Howard looked at him incredulously. "Vince, vous idiot. Ma maman enseigne le français, se rappellent ?" (1)

Vince's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "You what?" he said, as their tickets popped out and they pushed through the barriers with their luggage. "You can speak French?"

Howard sighed and rolled his eyes. Intelligence wise, Vince wasn't the brightest button in the box, but even **he** could surely remember that. "I called you an idiot -"

"Well yeah, I got that bit."

"- and said my mum teaches French, remember?"

Vince pondered this for a second, and then grinned stupidly. "Oh, yeah! Never knew you'd learnt it though."

"How do you think I passed my French oral?"

Vince smirked and Howard swatted him over the head with his ticket.

"Don't be cheeky."

"Hey – how come we weren't in her class?"

"Well, you just got lucky. I had to fight not to be in my mother's class – can you imagine the stick I would have gotten? It was hard enough trying to pretend I didn't know her."

"Aw, Howard. That's just mean."

"Nope – it's survival."

Once they'd got rid of their luggage, Vince bounded off towards the departure lounge, Howard doing a funny little half run to keep up with him, desperately trying not to look like he was running after a naughty child. Still, that didn't stop a few people from looking at the odd couple, well – oddly. Howard soon caught up with Vince and took hold of his elbow.

"Do I need to give you ritalin?"

"What?"

"Never mind. Come on, I've seen something you might like."

xxxx

"So is this **really** Europe's longest champagne bar?" Vince asked, leaning back in his chair and taking a long swig of Moët.

Howard swallowed his mouthful of bubbly and placed his glass on the table. "Yep."

Vince looked up at the ceiling, and then grinned.

"What?"

"Nothing – I was just wondering why you were buying me champagne."

"Like I said – all expenses paid."

Vince sat forward, a look of surprise on his perfectly sculpted features. "Seriously?"

Howard nodded. "What I didn't tell you was that my uncle and my mum fell out some years back, and now he's trying to make it up. He's loaded now. Hence the best suite in the hotel and the fact that was are **not **travelling in standard class."

Vince laughed and stamped his feet on the floor excitedly. "You have got to me kidding me?! This is amazing! I bet Naboo and Bollo will wish they'd come with us instead of going on that dirty shaman weekend when they hear about this."

Howard doubted it.

xxxx

An hour and a half later and they were speeding through the French countryside. Howard was curled into his seat, reading a battered old paperback and occasionally picking at the last of his dessert, while Vince was quaffing even more champagne and munching down strawberries like they were going out of fashion. Howard looked over the top of his book at him, hiding a small smile.

"Don't go getting drunk, Vince. I'm not carrying you to the hotel."

Vince stuck his tongue out at him, then smiled up at the waiter who was offering them both a top up. Vince excepted gladly.

"Monsieur?"

Howard looked up at the waiter and shook his head politely.

"Aw, come on Howard! Have another glass!"

In the end, Howard did just to shut Vince up, because he had started singing Howard's name and people were staring at him as if he'd just escaped the local nut house.

xxxx

"Right," said Howard, once they'd arrived at Paris Gare Du Nord and collected their luggage. "Look out for someone holding a sign with my name on it."

"Will it be in French?"

"No..."

"Oh, look!" Vince pointed to a rather well dressed driver holding a card with Howard's name on it, who came over when he saw Vince waving.

"Monsieur Moon?"

"Oui, bonjour."

"Vous parlez français ?"

"Oui." Howard smiled, and let the driver help with their luggage. "Vous devez être Claude. Mon oncle m'a dit au sujet de vous. Il a dit que vous étiez son meilleur conducteur."

"Votre oncle est un homme très bon." (2)

While Vince was listening to this exchange, and not understanding a word of it apart from 'yes' and 'hello', he got a strange little shiver down his spine. And as if that wasn't weird enough, it happened every time Howard opened his mouth to speak, his near perfect French accent pushing out words and making them sound, well... Vince shivered again. Howard's mother would certainly be proud. A hand waving in front of his face brought Vince back to reality.

"Vince?"

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"I'm great."

"Sorry, I was being rude. Vince, this is Claude. Claude, this is my friend Vince."

"A pleasure to meet you," Claude said with a shiny white smile and thickly accented voice.

Vince wasn't sure he liked him. "All right," he greeted, unconsciously moving closer to Howard.

A short while later they arrived at the hotel, and it was indeed beautiful, just like Howard had been told. The building was a work of art – old, grand and beyond superior, the wording on the front proudly announcing 'L'Hôtel De Palais'. Their bags were put on a trolly and wheeled into the lobby and Vince - being Vince – strolled in like he was the one who owned the place and not Howard's uncle, huge smile fixed on his face and large sunglasses pushed up his nose. The lobby was huge – all marble floors and fancy trees and flowers in fancy pots and vases, sumptuous red and purple sofas and gold filigree mirrors. There was even a small fountain in the middle of the floor. He walked up to the check-in desk and greeted the rather stuffy looking man behind it, who looked back at him as if he wasn't sure what to make of the grinning electro prince standing in front of him.

"Bonjour."

"Bon après-midi, monsieur. Avez-vous une réservation ?"

"Um..." Vince spun round and nearly bashed straight into Howard, who chuckled kindly at him and turned to the bemused clerk.

"Bon après-midi, monsieur. Mon oncle, James Moon, a une salle réservée pour nous. Elle est dessous -"

"Ah, oui ! Vous devez être Howard. Il a dit que vous veniez. S'il vous plaît, laissez-moi vous montrer vers le haut personnellement."

"C'est très genre de vous, merci." (3)

The clerk stuck a couple of key-cards into a machine and pressed some buttons, and then called over to the bell boy to take Howard and Vince's luggage up to their room.

As well as the driver, Vince wasn't sure he liked the clerk very much either, although he didn't really know why. All he knew, was that as Howard spoke he was getting that funny feeling again, and it was making him feel a bit uncomfortable. He followed him and the clerk across the lobby, feeling a little left out as they talked about things he couldn't understand. Hadn't Howard not long apologised to him for that? Vince gave Howard a small shove, and Howard turned to look at him with a guilty expression, as if he'd forgotten he was there.

"Pouvez-vous parler anglais ? Désolé, Vince ne peut pas parler français," Howard said to the clerk. (4)

"Oh, apologies," the clerk said, giving Vince a half smile. "Vince, is it?"

But before Vince could reply, the clerk had turned away from him and was ushering Howard into the lift. They travelled upwards in silence, until they reached the top floor and the doors slid open with a soft 'ping'. Vince studied the artwork on the walls as they walked down the corridor, the smell of honeysuckle assaulting his nostrils as they passed a small potted bush of the sweet-smelling little yellow flowers. The clerk stopped them by a rather ornate looking door.

"Here we are, gentlemen. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back to the lobby, but if you should need anything at all, please don't hesitate to ask. Your luggage will be with you shortly and here are your room keys," he said, handing Howard the two key-cards. "Have a very pleasant stay."

"Thank you." Howard handed one of the cards to Vince. "Don't lose it." He opened the door, and as the boys stepped through the sounds of their jaws hitting the floor could be heard all the way back in London.

Vince laughed in surprise. "Shit off!" Then he threw himself onto the huge bed, bouncing on it and laughing madly. "Look at this place – it's huge!" He then jumped off the bed and ran over to the windows, throwing open the curtains and...

"Wow! Hey, Howard, check out this view! And look! We have a table! And chairs! And a widescreen TV and we have a... a... what's that called?"

"A chaise longue."

"Yeah, one of them." He bounded over to a set of doors. "And a balcony! We have a bloody balcony! This is genius!" Vince then spotted the bathroom, ran to it, promptly let out a rather unmanly squeal, and ran back out again. "Howard – there is a bath in the middle of the floor. A sunken bath in the middle of a marble floor! With lilies! And, and... Howard? You okay?"

Howard was staring around the room in amazement, and blinked rapidly when Vince appeared in front of him. He smiled, and then broke out into a laugh.

Vince looked at him in confusion. "What's so funny?"

"Sorry, nothing. I..." he gestured around the room and Vince grinned, tugging on Howard's wrist and pulling him over to the window.

"Isn't it beautiful?"

"It certainly is. Although, I know of a place where the view is even more spectacular."

"The Eiffel Tower?"

"No. Well, yes – but that's not where I was thinking of. There's this really tall building called the Tour Maine-Montparnasse. It's mostly offices, but there's a restaurant and viewing platform at the top. The French don't like it very much because it sticks out like a sore thumb – it's the biggest skyscraper in France – and so it's said that you get the best view of Paris from up there, because it's the only place you can't see the tower." Howard was quite surprised, when he had finished, to see that Vince was still paying attention to him.

"Can we go now?"

Howard was a bit taken aback. "Yeah, sure – if you want too."

The bell boy arrived then with their suitcases, and Howard tipped him generously, receiving a small bow in return, which he thought was a bit strange, but quickly forgot about it when he caught Vince staring at the bed. Even Howard hadn't noticed it, too swept up in the grandeur of everything – until now.

"Oh."

"I thought you said it was a twin room?"

"That's what I was told."

Vince frowned for a second in thought, and then shrugged. "S'alright with me, as long as it doesn't bother you? I mean, it's not exactly a small bed, is it?"

"I s'pose. Well, come on then. Get yourself sorted out – Paris awaits."

xxxx

Okay, so Vince was impressed. When Howard had been talking about the tower earlier, he'd only been half listening, his brain too stuck on Howard's pronunciation of the words 'Tour Maine-Montparnasse'. Really, he didn't know what was wrong with him, and every time Howard had had to ask for directions or buy the tickets for the Metro, it had just made it worse. That morning he'd been fine – excited about the holiday, but definitely not feeling like he was going to swoon whenever Howard opened his mouth, and now it wasn't even when he spoke French. There was something about his northern voice he'd never noticed before, something deep and rich and..."

"Vince?"

Vince jumped slightly and tilted his head away from Howard to avoid him seeing the flush he could feel creeping over his face. "Yeah?"

"What do you think? Beats the view from the hotel, doesn't it? Look through here," Howard said, swinging the telescope he had been peering through in Vince's direction. Vince bent down to look through the lens, firstly getting a close up view of the Eiffel Tower, and then zooming in on a gold domed building with a small spire.

"What's that?" Vince asked, pointing downwards.

Howard followed the direction of his finger and smiled. "That's Les Invalides," he said, close to Vince's ear, although he didn't notice when his friend shivered slightly.

"What is it?"

"As pretty as it looks, I doubt it would interest you. It contains monuments and museums relating to France's military history. There's a church there too, and a hospital."

Vince made a face. "Yeah, you're right. Bit boring. What's that place where all the bohemians go, where they have all the artists?"

"Montmartre. You just want to visit the Moulin Rouge, don't you? You do realise it's not going to be like the film. You won't find the 'Sparkling Diamond' swinging down from the ceiling or men in tuxedos dancing to 'Children of the Revolution'."

Vince grinned and slapped playfully at Howard's arm. "Yeah, I know. Just thought it would be fun."

"Well. Well, well, well..." Howard rocked back on his heels slightly and blew out his lips.

"What?"

"Oh, you know, just that my uncle might have booked us a table there for dinner this evening, followed by the show..." Howard shoved his hands in his pockets and stared out across the city.

Vince pulled on his sleeve. "Are you being serious?"

"Perhaps."

"Howard!"

The maverick laughed.

"Your uncle is awesome."

"Actually, the Moulin Rouge was my idea. I know how much you love the film. Secretly, of course."

"Aw, Howard. Thanks. Or, I should say, 'merci'."

"Ah, so you do remember something."

"Don't be silly, Howard – everyone knows the basics; 'hello, good-bye, please, thank you, yes, no' and 'do you speak English?'"

Howard rolled his eyes. "Well, it's good to know you learnt something at school. Come on, we'd better get going. I'm sure you'll want a couple of hours to get ready."

"Of course."

xxxx

Howard's stomach dropped when he saw Vince. Dropped in a good way – or was it just in a confusing way? It wasn't like he hadn't seen Vince all dolled up for a night out before, it was just... What? What was it? Because, for some reason, Vince, in his tightest pair of black skinny jeans and a fitted red silk shirt which was unbuttoned quite low, suddenly seemed very appealing, although Howard had no idea why. However, he was quickly startled out of his musings when a flash went off in front of his eyes.

"Vince!"

Vince, brandishing a camera, smiled devilishly at his friend. "What?" he said, in an innocent tone anyone but Howard would have fallen for.

"I wasn't even smiling."

"True. But it's not actually a bad photo – look."

Howard studied the image on the screen. It was all right, he supposed. "I've seen better."

Vince smiled and shook his head, tucking the small digital camera into the pocket of his jeans, while Howard was left to marvel at just how he was able to do that, seeing as they seemed to be spray-painted on. And then Vince was in front if him again, fussing with the buttons on his shirt – a shirt which Vince had spotted in the window of the hotel's boutique and told Howard he had to have.

"That's better," Vince said, smoothing out Howard's collar. "Now you look a bit more relaxed."

"I was relaxed!"

"Well, now you look like you're on holiday."

"I **am **on holiday."

"You know what I mean." Vince stood back and surveyed him. Howard squirmed slightly, feeling not unlike some kind of scientific experiment, until Vince smiled at him, and then he just felt stupid. "Not bad, Moon. Not bad at all."

"Yeah, well, you **made** me wear it, so I should hope not."

"You should wear midnight-blue more often – it suits you."

"I do wear blue."

"Blue, brown and orange patterned shirts that look liked they've been thrown up on don't count."

"Oi! That's my look, sir."

"What? Puked on?"

"Ha ha. You know what I meant."

Vince grinned, slipped on a pair of white Chelsea boots and popped a trilby hat on top of his head.

"Let's go."

xxxx

"Howard, we need more wine!" Vince cried, a bit too loudly as he tipped the last dregs from the bottle in his hand into his glass.

Howard took the bottle from Vince and pointed it at him. "No, little man," he said, slightly tipsy himself. "You're drunk."

"I am not!" Vince tried to look all put-out and serious, but he ruined it two seconds later when he burst out laughing. "How genius do you think I'd look in a pair of those Can-Can boots? You think I should get some?"

"Um... no?"

"Hmm, maybe."

Dinner had been devoured, the show had just finished rather spectacularly, and now the boys were finishing the last of their drinks, Howard trying to stop them from getting thrown out when Vince decided to try and climb up onto their table for a dance.

"Come on, we'd better go. That bloke over there is looking at me funny," Howard said, pointing in the man's general direction, which earned him a glare.

Vince giggled. "Maybe he fancies you."

"Really not my type," Howard said, pulling a face.

"Oh, so what is your type?"

"Ceux qui vous habillent comme les prostituées futuristes avec de grands il bleu peuvent se noyer dedans et..." (5) Howard caught himself quickly, and slapped a hand over his mouth, horrified. But Vince was giggling again, and he relaxed greatly when he asked him to say it again in English. Howard wasn't sure what had made him say it in the first place (although he assumed that the wine had played a big part in it), or why he had said it in French without him even thinking, but he was very, very thankful. "I said – I said..." He was saved from having to make up another answer, because by that time they had stumbled outside, and Vince was trying to take a rather shaky photo of the club all lit up, the lights from the fake windmill twinkling brightly against the inky blue sky.

"That," said Vince, once he had taken his photo and clutched Howard's arm, wobbling up the street, "was the most genius show I have ever seen. Those girls were amazing! And the food! I know we've only been here less than a day, but I think this is already my most favourite holiday."

Howard looked at him in pleasant surprise. "Really?"

"**Really **really," Vince sing-songed, narrowly avoiding tripping on the curb as they crossed the road and walked towards the Metro.

xxxx

"God, it's hot," Vince said, as he took a bite of his crépe, chocolate dripping out of the corners. He and Howard were relaxing on the grass in front of the Sacré Coeur, the sun shining brightly in the cloudless sky and making Paris look even more beautiful. Having woken up surprisingly hangover free, the boys had decided to go back to Montmartre and were now sprawled out on their fronts eating lunch.

"Are you complaining?"

Vince licked his lips to catch the chocolate before it dribbled down his chin. "No, just saying. Pass us the water."

Howard handed the bottle over, and noticed for the first time Vince's reddening skin.

"Did you put any sun cream on?"

"Nope. I don't need it anymore. That high factor stuff I used to use was genius. Apparently, once you've finished the bottle, you never need to use it again. I can go out without getting burnt!"

Howard blinked at him in astonishment. He couldn't believe that even Vince was **that** stupid.

"Vince, you idiot! Where the hell do you get this stuff from? Of course you can still burn. Nothing makes you immune to the sun! And you **are **burning."

"What?!"

Howard pulled a bottle of lotion out of his bag and chucked it at Vince. "Here – put some of that on."

Vince sat up, uncapped the bottle and took his sunglasses off, wincing as the light hit his eyes before depositing some of the cream into his hand and rubbing it into his face. He then popped his shades back on and worked on covering his arms in the white lotion.

"Thanks, Howard," he said, handing the bottle back to his slightly amused friend when he'd finished.

"Well, I should have known that when you said you had to buy a few 'essentials', that you'd forget the important stuff."

"Yeah, yeah, all right."

They sat in silence for a while, finishing their lunch and listening to the music being played by a group of buskers.

"Howard, what does Sacré Coeur mean in English?" Vince asked, standing up to take a picture of the beautiful church.

"Sacred Heart. Come on," he said, getting up and brushing a few loose bit of grass from his shorts. "Let's go back to the square."

"Get we get our portrait done?"

"Maybe."

They walked along one of the paths until they reached the Place du Tertre, which was full of artists and tourists, music floating out of the cafés and restaurants. The air smelt sweet, the heady scent of wine and fresh bread and pastries gently wafting by. A young lady winked at Vince as she walked past, and he smiled back at her. Howard felt an unexplainable wrench in his gut as he witnessed this, but promptly shoved it to the back of his mind. They wandered about for a bit, soaking up the atmosphere until, eventually, Vince managed to coerce Howard to sit for a portrait. He'd grumbled a bit, saying that it probably wouldn't even look like them, but was forced to eat his words when he saw the finished result.

"We can hang it back home," Vince grinned, studying it. "It'll be a focal point for when people come round."

It was at that moment that Vince well and truly realised that he was in trouble. Howard wasn't looking where he was going, and bumped into an elderly woman, sending her bag and its contents sprawling over the ground. Howard instantly started to flap.

"Ah, je suis Madame tellement désolée ! S'il vous plaît, laissez-moi vous aider."

"Aucuns dommages faits, jeune homme. Merci," the old lady said, as Howard replaced the items back into her bag and handed it too her. (6)

Vince could feel his face burning as he listened to the exchange between them, and it wasn't just because of the sun. Oh, God. That was it – he'd fallen for Howard! In just over a day he'd gone from thinking of his friend platonically to falling in love with him.

Falling in love with him?

Vince had to get away, and he went into the nearest souvenir shop. It was cool in there, and he browsed the shelves as he tried to calm his racing heart. He was being stupid. It was only because he'd been sucked in by the fact Howard could speak French and how it sounded so... so... hot. But still, that was besides the point – you couldn't suddenly fancy someone you'd known for years because they could speak another language. Which must mean that Paris, the famous city of romance, was doing funny things to his head, and once they were back in England he'd be back to normal, because he wouldn't have fallen for Howard otherwise, would he?

Would he?

Vince thought about it for a moment, something deep inside him trying to push its way up to the surface. He'd never really thought about it before, his feelings for his best friend. But maybe there had always been something after all. Something...

"Vince?"

Startled, Vince nearly dropped the snow-globe he was holding, that now familiar shiver running through him as Howard not only said his name, but placed his hand on Vince's bare shoulder. Stupid vest tops.

"What d'you run off for? I – you okay?" Howard asked, suddenly concerned at how ill Vince looked.

Vince recovered and pulled a perfect excuse out of thin air. "Yeah, sorry. I was feeling a bit faint – needed some shade." He felt guilty, because Howard was looking genuinely worried, and the bigger man ushered him over to a chair he'd spotted in the corner of the shop, which was conveniently placed underneath an air-conditioning unit.

"Wait there, I'll get you a fresh bottle of water. This one's gone a bit warm."

Vince realised he was still holding onto the snow-globe, and he studied it closely, trying to take his mind off of the man who was now standing at the counter, whose voice he could just about hear as he turned the globe over in his hands. It was quite pretty actually, the globe. It wasn't one of those tacky plastic ones, but a glass globe on a carved wooden stand, and the snow wasn't snow at all, but glitter, falling over a miniature replica of the Sacré Coeur. He shook it, smiling slightly as the glitter caught the light.

"Here you go, little man."

Howard knelt down beside Vince and handed him the water.

"Thanks."

"What you got there?"

Vince gave him the globe and opened the bottle, taking a long swig and savouring the icy feeling sliding down his throat.

"It's pretty. You buying it?"

"Might do."

Howard frowned and placed a hand against Vince's forehead. Vince wished he hadn't, but then felt sad loss when it was removed.

"You do feel very hot. Are you dizzy?"

"A little."

Howard smiled gently at him. "Heat stroke. Do you want to go back to the hotel for a bit?"

"Oh, no – I'll be fine," Vince insisted, worried that he was somehow about to ruin Howard's holiday all because he couldn't pull himself together. "I'll just sit here for a minute and cool down."

Howard didn't look convinced, but he didn't try and persuade him otherwise. The last thing he wanted was for Vince to be ill on holiday, but he didn't want to have to keep his friend in the hotel all day either. In the end, he decided that all he could do was keep an eye on him – that, and he'd buy him the globe, to cheer him up.

Vince barely noticed when Howard walked away from him, too busy concentrating on the cold water which was swirling through his body, so he was surprised when a small bag suddenly waved in front of him, followed by Howard's grinning face.

"What's that?"

"Your globe."

Vince returned the grin. "Thank you," he said, genuinely touched that Howard was trying his best to make him feel better.

If only he could tell him the truth.

xxxx

That afternoon, Howard took Vince to visit the Louvre and the Musée National d'Art Moderne at the Pompidou Centre, thinking it was best to keep him in the shade. Normally museums would bore Vince to tears, but he had an appreciation for art, and was especially excited to see the modern pieces at the Pompidou Centre. Howard watched him carefully, smiling to himself as Vince studied the displays closely and read the plaques that accompanied some of them. It was amazing, really, that they'd manage to not argue over what to see and do and if Howard was truthful to himself, then he'd have to admit that he'd noticed a change in Vince ever since they'd arrived. Not that he was complaining – he was glad that they were getting on so well again. Perhaps some time away alone was just what they'd needed to get their friendship back on track. He vaguely wondered what would have happened if Naboo and Bollo ** had **accompanied them, then decided not to dwell on what might have been, grateful that, for now, they were having a good time – a **very** good time. So good, that Howard had caught himself more than once staring at his best friend in a way that he realised was most definitely not normal. Like now, for instance, and this time Vince was staring back at him and...

Staring back at him.

Howard quickly turned his head away and fixed his gaze on a nearby painting, his face burning, stomach churning at the fact he had been caught. Now he was for it. Vince would think he was a freak and would draw the attention of the whole gallery towards them by shouting at him.

"Howard. Howard? Howard. Howard!"

Howard felt an insistent tapping on the back of his shoulder and he turned slowly to face Vince, who was wearing an expression of bewilderment.

"Oh, hey Vince."

"You all right?"

"Yup."

Vince shook his head. "It's all right, I know you're just keeping an eye on me. I'm fine now, though – honest. Just a bit hungry."

Howard checked his watch. "Hmm, nearly time for dinner."

"Yeah. Can I know where we're going now?"

"What part of 'it's a surprise' didn't you get, little man?"

Vince grinned. "What's 'little man' in French?"

"Petit homme."

Vince liked the sound of that.

xxxx

The city was exquisite at night. The rising moon reflected in the glassy water of the Seine, the city lights shimmering around it. The air was warm and full of promise – couples strolled along hand-in-hand, some stealing kisses, some whispering words of love and adoration. It was a perfect night, and on the river, sat at a table on one of the cruise boats, Vince and Howard sat eating dinner and enjoying each others company more than they ever had before.

"That was delicious," Vince said, licking chocolate off of his spoon, whilst Howard tried in vain not to look at him and his pretty pink tongue. "I have **never **had profiteroles like those before. Do you think they can box me some up to take home?"

Howard smiled. "Probably not. But we'll see what we can find at the pâtisserie if you like. Do you want some more wine?"

Vince held his glass out, watching as the yellow-coloured liquid splashed down into it, then brought it up to his lips and took a mouthful.

Howard excused himself to use the toilet, and when he came back was informed by the waiter that Vince was out on the deck. Howard found him leant against the railing, sipping his wine and looking out across the water. Vince turned as he approached.

"Hey."

"All right?"

"Yeah, I'm just 'taking air on the deck'," Vince said, in a perfect upper class accent, which was ruined when he laughed.

Howard smirked and came to stand next to him. They watched the passing scenery in silence, occasionally glancing at each other and swapping shy smiles, the soft, traditional music from the small band playing inside washeing over them. The atmosphere between them was becoming thick, and they were suddenly standing a lot closer to each other than either of them realised, until Howard turned his head and nearly hit it against Vince's.

"Sorry," he said with a small laugh, and then he swallowed nervously, because Vince hadn't moved and neither had he and Vince's mouth seemed awfully close to his, and now his head was spinning slightly, although if it was from Vince or the wine he couldn't be sure, and Vince was looking at him almost expectantly as if -

"Achoo!" Vince turned away quickly as he sneezed.

The moment was broken.

"Bless you."

"Cheers." Vince wrinkled his nose slightly and then ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it up.

They soon fell back into their normal routine, and it was as if nothing had ever happened. Not that anything actually **had, **but both Howard and Vince were daring to think that something **might **have.

xxxx

"Wow, this is high up."

"You were fine when we went up that skyscraper yesterday."

"Yeah, but that was more... I mean this is... it's – it's just bars!"

"Vince, you'll be fine. Just wait till we get right to the top – it'll be worth it."

"All right, but if I fall you'd better catch me."

"You won't fall."

Howard and Vince were in a lift going up the Eiffel Tower, Vince looking a little pale as he worried about the stability of the iron structure, which was a rather new feeling to him because he never normally worried about anything other than his hair and what outfit to wear. The lift came to a stop, and they stepped out, Vince grabbing onto Howard's arm and they moved towards the edge.

"Look, see? Big fence. You're perfectly safe." To prove his point he walked right up to it and looked out over the city. "You really don't want to miss this," Howard said, sounding rather awe-struck.

Vince cautiously stepped forward, gasping when he saw the view, his fear melting away. If the view he'd seen yesterday was beautiful, then he didn't have the words for this one. Above him the stars twinkled brightly in the clear sky and below him the city lights stretched on for miles, bathing it in a golden-orange glow. A cool breeze whipped his hair gently about his face and he put his hands up to the fence, looping his fingers through the diamond-shaped gaps.

"It's... it's breathtaking."

"Yeah, it is." But Howard wasn't looking at the view – he was looking at Vince. Looking at how the moonlight bounced off his striking features and made his hair shine. Looking at how the stars lit up his eyes and made them sparkle.

"Howard?"

"Hmm?"

"It's very romantic up here, isn't it?" Vince said, eyes still focused on the city, his voice light and casual. At least, he hoped it was.

"Er, yeah, I guess it is."

"Howard?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me something in French."

Howard looked confused. "Like what?"

"I dunno. Anything."

Howard thought for a second, and then opened his mouth, hoping that Vince hadn't suddenly picked up the entire language and would be able to understand everything he said.

"Okay. I... Je pense que je suis tombé amoureux de vous. Je ne sais pas comment, ou quand, mais j'ai. Je t'aime. Ah, Dieu. Je t'aime. Je vous adore." (7)

Vince bit his bottom lip as he listened, then turned to face Howard, noting straight away that his face seemed to be glowing.

"Say something else," he said quietly, moving closer towards him.

Howard took a deep breath. "Vous êtes mon étoile brillante. Mon tout. Celui qui se produise à partir de ce moment, je n'oublierai ce soir jamais. Je souhaite que je pourrais te dire tout ceci en anglais. Bien que, je pourrais alors probablement mourir de l'embarras." (8)

Vince's face was now hovering mere centimetres away from Howard's.

"What did you say?"

Howard swallowed heavily, his body temperature rocketing. "Can't – can't you guess?"

Vince shook his head slowly. "No."

"Oh. Well, I..." Howard could feel himself trembling slightly, his arm... No, wait. Why would just his arm be trembling? And then it struck him. It wasn't him at all – it was Vince, who standing so close that he was more or less pressed into the right side of Howard's body.

Vince watched him in anticipation. He didn't have a clue what Howard had said, but he could tell by the soft tone of Howard's voice and way he was looking at him that it could potentially have been something meaningful, and Vince's heart raced and his palms became sweaty and...

Oh, bollocks to it.

Vince closed his eyes, leant in and pressed his lips gently to Howard's, gasping slightly as he felt the soft skin beneath his. He put a hand up to Howard's face and stroked his cheek, terrified that he was about to pull away and start yelling at him. When he didn't, when Vince heard a tiny noise of surprise followed by an increasing pressure on his mouth, he began to tremble even harder, his legs threatening to give way as he became overwhelmed with this new sensation of kissing his best friend, and that was when he felt an arm snake around his waist, holding him upright.

"Howard?" Vince mumbled against him breathlessly.

Howard pulled back slightly and blinked to clear his vision, instantly missing the contact.

"Yeah?" he whispered.

"Tell me what you said," Vince whispered back.

"You still can't guess?"

"Please."

Howard leant in close to Vince's ear. "I told you that I love you, that I adore you. I told you you were my everything." He pulled away, searching Vince's eyes for his reaction, worried that he'd gone too far. But then Vince smiled, his eyes all watery and bright, so he took a chance and kissed him.

Vince felt like he was in heaven and he fell fully into Howard's arms. Howard stroked a hand over Vince's hair and pulled him as close as he could, a quiet moan escaping his mouth as he felt Vince's tongue run over his bottom lip. Howard parted his lips and let their tongues slide together, relishing in the feeling of it, still not quite believing that Vince actually wanted him and falling more and more into a state of delirious happiness, until a rather disgruntled cough from behind them had them pulling apart rather quickly. They both turned at the same time to see a guard giving them a rather unfriendly glare.

"Excusez-nous, nous partons juste," Howard said to the guard, and he quickly took hold of Vince's hand and pulled him over to the lift. (9)

Vince grinned. "He didn't look happy. What did you say to him?"

"Just that we were leaving."

"Oh. Howard?"

"Yeah?" Howard said, pulling Vince close to him again.

Vince nibbled Howard's lip. "Can we go back to the hotel?"

"Already on it, petit homme."

xxxx

Back at the hotel Vince and Howard walked through the lobby quickly and fidgeted impatiently as they got into the lift and waited for it to take them to the top floor. Howard had to keep from laughing as Vince inadvertently caught the attentions of an overly-made-up middle-aged woman, who was smiling suggestively at him. Eventually the lift emptied and they reached the top floor.

If Howard was worried about any awkwardness he needn't have been, because as soon as the lift doors had slid shut behind them Vince grabbed him and kissed him fully, backing him up against the wall. Howard moaned and grabbed hold of Vince's waist, hoisting him up and pushing him into the opposite wall. Vince wrapped his legs around him, and they stumbled towards the door of their suite, Howard trying not to drop Vince as he fumbled for his key-card and opened the door, kicking it shut with a loud bang behind him. They tripped over to the bed, falling onto it unceremoniously, rolling around and then clutching at each other fiercely, passionate kisses sloppy and messy, all teeth and tongues and nipping and sucking at lips. Amongst all the heat and dizziness, they soon became vaguely aware of a persistent knocking at the door to their room. Howard moaned in agitation and reluctantly pulled away from Vince, who whimpered and tried to pull him back down again.

"Leave it," he whispered as he leant up for another kiss.

Howard almost gave in, but the knocking wouldn't stop and he slid out of Vince's grasp and rushed to the door, throwing Vince an apologetic look over his shoulder, which, to his relief, was returned with a coy smile and bitten lower lip. He flung the door open, not caring that his hair was a mess or that his shirt was creased and half unbuttoned.

"Yes?"

A porter stood there looking slightly embarrassed, and cleared his throat. "Excuse me, monsieur. I... I..." but upon seeing Howard's flustered state and clearly realising what he had been up to, the poor young man stumbled over his words, his English becoming flustered as he tried to remember what he was there for.

Howard tried his best not to sound **too** annoyed. "Qu'est-ce que c'est ?"

The porter seemed to relax slightly upon hearing his native tongue. "J'ai été dit pour te fournir cette lettre d'urgence, monsieur."

Howard took the envelope from the porter's hand, looked at it – and tried not to scream at him.

"Ce n'est pas pour moi. Ce n'est pas mon nom et vous avez également la salle fausse. Essayez celui derrière vous."

The porter looked horrifed by his mistake, and went a very deep shade of red as he looked at the door behind him. To be fair, the names of the two suites were very similar, but still.

"Ah, oh monsieur, je suis si désolé. S'il vous plaît, pardonnez-moi. C'est seulement mon deuxième jour et -"

Howard held a hand up to stop him. "Il est très bien. Maintenant, bonne nuit." (10) And with that, he closed the door on him and turned back to Vince, who was now sat up on the bed and looking at him in bewilderment.

"What was all that about?"

Howard sighed and sat down next to him. "Urgent letter. Wrong room."

Vince made a small noise of indignation.

The moment ruined, Howard was beginning to feel slightly awkward, and, sensing this, Vince shuffled closer to him and put a hand to his face, moving a piece of hair out of Howard's eyes and caressing his cheek gently.

"You all right?"

"Yeah, I..." Howard sighed again. "Is this what you really want? Because, you know, there's no going back."

Vince smiled kindly at him, although he couldn't help but also look slightly amused.

"What?"

"You're an idiot. What do you think all that business was earlier? I wasn't feeling ill because of the sun, it was because of **you**. And when I kept getting you to talk French, that was because... well... frankly, it's really sexy – and I don't mean in general, I mean because it's **you **who's saying it."

Howard flushed – which made him look quite delicious, Vince thought – and looked at his friend in amazement as he processed what he'd just said, then adopted a look of mock hurt and said;

"So, you only fancy me in France, then?"

Vince's eyes widened and he became slightly flustered. "No! No, I didn't mean it like that – I meant – I mean, it **is** a major turn-on – but it's not just that – I've been feeling – feeling..." he trailed off when he saw a grin slowly spread across Howard's face, and he frowned at him, mouth forming a perfect pout.

"You bastard! I can't believe you just -"

But Howard cut him off with a kiss and pushed him backwards onto the bed. "What were you saying?" he mumbled against him, as he drew his tongue across Vince's bottom lip.

Vince gasped, not really able to form coherent speech anymore. "I... Oh, doesn't... doesn't matter..."

Howard continued his assault of Vince's mouth a while longer, hands twisted in the smaller man's hair, until he felt Vince's own hands slid under his shirt and up his back and a whisper of apprehension ghosted through him.

"Vince?"

"Mmm."

"I – you remember I haven't..."

Vince stilled and hugged Howard close to him, looking up at him with nothing but love and affection. And maybe a little bit of lust.

"I know, it's okay," he said gently, "I'll take it slow." He kissed him, sucking on Howard's bottom lip, making him moan and tremble in anticipation.

Half an hour later, and they were taking it anything but slow. Vince, who had been moving and moaning in pure bliss on top of Howard, squealed, half out of shock and half out of delight as Howard, getting into his stride, suddenly grabbed Vince's hips and flipped him over, mumbling to him in French as he moved over him.

"Vous n'avez aucune idée combien je vous veux, sur combien vous me tournez. Je veux goûter chaque à bit unique de vous, vous sens writhe sous moi, vous observe comme vous venir. Je vous veux, tout le vous." (11)

Vince moaned as Howard kissed and sucked at his neck, managing to keep the wonderful rocking rhythm they'd had going and letting Howard take him even deeper, and he gasped his name as he slid one hand over his lover's chest, the other scrabbling for purchase on the sheets.

A cool breeze drifted in through the open window, the curtains billowing out slightly as the moon shone a soft light over the bed, the scene a serene mixture of blue and silver. Howard looked down at Vince, an angel sprawled beneath him bathed in starlight, beautiful and glowing and his – completely **his**. He put his mouth to Vince's ear and whispered an 'I love you', his moans becoming louder when Vince ran his tongue along his neck and nibbled at his jaw line.

"I love you," Vince panted back, and then all but screamed when Howard reached a hand between them and took hold of him, an ecstasy he'd never felt before burning through him.

Afterwards they lay spent on the bed covers, legs tangled together as Vince rested his head on Howard's chest, Howard lazily running his fingers up and down Vince's arm.

"What did you say to me earlier?" Vince asked, dropping a small kiss on Howard's lips as he twisted and propped himself up on one arm.

Howard felt his face grow hot, and could tell by the look on Vince's face that he was blushing.

"Just – stuff."

"Stuff? It sounded like pretty dirty 'stuff' to me."

Howard shifted uncomfortably, and then shivered when Vince bit gently at his earlobe. He relaxed a little and offered Vince a knowing smile.

"Well then, if you know that already you can pretty much guess, can't you?"

"Spoilsport." Vince stuck his tongue out at him and made to get up, but Howard pinned him down, leaning in and speaking quietly into Vince's ear, feeling very pleased with himself when Vince's cheeks coloured. He gave a low chuckle, lying back and pulling Vince on top of him, and they kissed gently for a while, still exhausted from their earlier excursions.

"I feel crazy," Vince suddenly said, looking up from where he was tracing patterns on Howard's skin.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Vince said, sitting up with a bounce, a new-found energy coursing through him, "that I feel like doing something crazy, something I've never thought of doing before, something – something wild and unforgettable. Don't you feel it too? After this – hasn't it woken something within you?"

Howard grinned and sat up next to him. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. Something big," Vince replied, gesticulating widely with his arms.

"You mean like bungee jumping?"

"No, no. Something more... something that's forever. I don't know – something!"

"You'll certainly have the memory forever."

"No! Bigger!"

Howard laughed at Vince's enthusiasm. "Well, short of getting married, I don't know what you could do that would be** that** big. I don't really recommend abseiling down the Eiffel Tower or -"

"Wait," Vince interrupted him. "What did you say?"

"Abseiling. It's -"

"I know what it is! Before that."

Howard thought about it, but he really didn't have a clue as to what he'd said that had sparked Vince's interest -

Oh.

No, surely not?

"Um, marriage?" he asked cautiously, worried in case he was implying the wrong thing. But Vince was grinning at him, and Howard's stomach began to flip. "You – you want to get married?" he asked, slightly breathless.

Vince knelt up on the bed. "Are you asking?"

"You want to get married? To **me**?" he asked, hardly able to believe what Vince was saying.

Vince suddenly felt a bit uneasy, and he dropped the grin, instead adopting a look of nervousness and sincerity to show Howard that he was most definitely **not **messing him around.

"I – I could never leave you, Howard. I've never planned on it – not seriously, anyway. I've always known that I'll be with you for the rest of my life. And now, after this... and I love you, and you love me..."

"You want to get married?" Howard said again, softer this time and a bit scared.

Vince smiled at him. "Like I said – are you asking?"

Then, for the first time in his life, something clicked and Howard made a proper, grown-up decision. He laughed slightly in disbelief, and then knelt up next to Vince, taking a deep breath.

"Vince..." and Howard looked at him – **really** looked at him – and saw the whole world in his luminous blue eyes. "Will you marry me?"

Vince didn't care if it was a really girlie thing to do, he was so overwhelmed by how quickly everything had just happened that he couldn't help but burst into tears, and he threw his arms around Howard's neck, kissed him, jumped off the bed, ran across the room, turned round, and squealed through his hands (again, very much like a girl), "We're getting married? Oh, my God! We're getting married!"

Howard had now leapt off the bed too and was walking towards him, his face beaming. Then he stopped halfway and said, "wait. I asked you, but you never answered."

Vince laughed. He couldn't help it. "Yes!" He ran at Howard and jumped on him, and the two tumbled onto the chaise longue, giggling hysterically.

"Here? In Paris?" Vince panted, trying to control himself.

"Well, we're going home Tuesday. That only gives us a day, and I don't really think it will be possible to arrange everything -"

"I don't care," Vince cut in. "I don't care about all that. I just want you and me and – okay, **maybe **a really genius outfit – but that's it." He looked at Howard expectantly, and Howard really didn't want to burst his bubble, but...

"Vince, it's not just that. We have to find a registrar who's willing to perform the ceremony, and there's paper work to fill out and I'm pretty sure you have to wait a while to see if anyone objects and -"

"Your uncle."

"What?"

"Your uncle. I know he's not here at the moment, but he must know tons of people – he could pull some strings. It's worth a try, isn't it? You could call him in the morning, first thing, and we could have it here. It's... it's not just because I want to do something crazy anymore. It's because – because I..." he faltered when he became teary-eyed again, and Howard held him close, placing a kiss in his hair.

"I know. And yes, I'll call him in the morning. I'm not promising anything, but I'll try my best."

Vince started bouncing about again. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! And we'll throw a huge party when we get back, you know, so everyone else can celebrate with us. We'll hire somewhere or something."

"Sounds great."

"Yeah. Howard?"

"Yeah?"

"Are we insane?"

"Maybe just a little."

"Howard?"

"Vince."

"I can't wait to marry you. Are we actually allowed to call it that? Getting married?"

Howard pondered this for a second. "Officially, no. Unofficially... well, we can call it what we like, can't we?"

"Yeah, cos 'civil partnership' doesn't sound as glamourous, does it?"

"Glamourous?" Howard chuckled. "Just you wait till we get home and you're up to your elbows in dishes, then we'll see how 'glamourous' it is."

Vince pouted and slapped him lightly on the arm. "In your dreams."

Howard kissed him. "Come on, we'd better get some sleep."

"Sleep?"

xxxx

Howard's uncle, it turned out, was indeed **very** well connected. It also turned out that his uncle also had a eye for the men, and was more than willing to help Howard and Vince out whilst promising not to let anything slip to Howard's parents before he'd had a chance to talk to them. After letting him have a lie-in, Howard had eventually woken Vince at ten-am, telling him they had an appointment for registration. Vince had practically fallen out of bed in excitement and had proceeded to shower Howard in kisses before running to the bathroom to get ready.

James Moon had had to tell a few tiny lies whilst working his magic with the registrar – namely, that his nephew's fiancé was seriously ill and they needed to seal their partnership as quickly as possible. Howard had felt a bit uncomfortable with that, briefly wondering how it was that no proof had been asked for, but had gone along with it for one reason only – Vince.

Now, the two men were dashing around Paris looking for something to wear. Howard figured he could look after himself, but Uncle Moon had sent one of the hotel staff out with Vince as a translator. At the hotel, the staff were also rushing around on last minute orders, something which Howard and Vince knew nothing about. As far as they knew, they were getting hitched on the hotel's rooftop terrace, and that was it.

Vince, standing in front of the mirror in a particularly flashy boutique along the Champs Elysées, spun round with a broad grin on his face.

"I think this is the one," he said to Monique, a waitress from the hotel's restaurant and his appointed personal shopping assistant.

"Oui, it is beautiful," she agreed, smiling at him in a sisterly way and picking up pair of silver boots. "Although, I think these would go better than the ones you have on."

Vince studied them closely and then nodded in agreement. "You know, I think you're right. You're really good at this – maybe you should work in fashion."

"Ha, maybe."

Howard, meanwhile, had long since bought his suit and now was trying to pick out a pair of rings, finding that trying to work out Vince's finger size was a lot harder than he'd imagined. He checked his watch – it was nearing two and the ceremony was at five.

At the hotel an eye was being kept out for Vince and Howard's return, as florists passed through the lobby with beautiful blooms of flowers and on the roof, chairs were being set out and decorated with ribbon. Pierre, the clerk who had first greeted the boys at the hotel, was flapping about, holding a phone to one ear and trying to direct people with the other.

"Oui, monsieur, tout va prévoir. Oui, il sera parfait," he said down the phone to his boss, assuring him that his nephew's nuptials were going to plan. Then he screeched in a rather unmanly way when a large vase of orchids fell onto the marble floor with a crash.

He hoped he was getting paid extra for this.

xxxx

Vince leaned into the mirror to place a smudge of eyeliner under each eye. He was already quite flushed from the sun and glowing rather prettily, so decided that less would be more on the make-up front. He capped the pencil and placed it down before running a finger under each eye to blend the black kohl into a smoky effect.

Perfect.

He still couldn't believe this was really happening, that he was getting married – to **Howard**. The whole weekend had been a complete whirlwind, and he knew there would be a lot of explaining to do when they got home, but he was happy – ecstatically happy - and nothing was going to spoil it.

Howard, on the other hand, was pacing the room he'd been given to change in nervously. He jumped when there was a knock on the door, and opened it cautiously to find Pierre on the other side.

It was time.

He checked his reflection and ran his hand through his hair one last time. For once, it didn't look too bad – nicely dishevelled in a stylish just-got-out-of-bed way. He smoothed down the jacked of his black pin-stripe suit, straightened the ruby coloured silk tie around his neck, checked he had both the rings, took a deep breath and then followed Pierre up to the roof.

xxxx

When Vince stepped out onto the terrace, he saw what could only be described as something from a fairytale. Small flowering trees and vases of orchids and roses stood at both ends of a small aisle, to which a few chairs tied with red ribbon had been placed either side, where the witnesses, Pierre and Monique, and the hotel's manager were sat. They stood when they saw Vince, alerting Howard and the registrar, who had been talking quietly, to his presence.

Howard broke out into beaming smile when he saw Vince walking towards him. He looked stunning, dressed in tight fitting white trousers and a white kaftan with silver embroidery, which shone in the sunlight.

"You look beautiful," he whispered in his ear as he kissed his cheek.

"And you look **very** sexy," he whispered back approvingly. "Did you do all this?" he asked, awe-struck at the decoration surrounding them.

Howard shook his head. "No. My uncle did. I had no idea."

The registrar welcomed everybody and ran through the formalities rather quickly. Vince and Howard then read out the vows they had written for each other, exchanged rings, and then all that was left was for them to do, along with Pierre, Monique and the registrar, was to sign the register.

And that was it.

The boys shared a kiss to a light round of applause from those assembled, shook hands with the other men and received kisses from Monique, who also got them to pose for a few photos, and where then, to their surprise, shown to a table on the other side of the terrace, where a gourmet four course meal was waiting to be served, complete with a bottle of champagne on ice and background music.

xxxx

The meal had been fantastic. A rich, tangy tomato soup, followed by Magrets de Canard aux cerises, chocolate soufflé with fresh fruit for dessert, and finished with cheese and biscuits.

Howard smiled at Vince across the table and topped up his champagne glass.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Monsieur Moon?" Vince giggled, clearly already quite tipsy.

"Absolutely," Howard replied with a grin, tipping the rest of the bottle into his own glass and then downing the lot, including the strawberry that had been floating about the bottom of it. He then excused the waiter and stood up a bit too quickly, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to clear the dizziness. "Come on," he said, taking Vince's hand and pulling him up. "Dance with me." He turned up the stereo that had been placed on a small wooden table, which was just beginning to pay a French version of Etta James' 'At Last'. Howard took Vince in his arms and looked down into his eyes, which were wide and a little hazy from too much alcohol. Howard thought he'd never looked more beautiful.

"Howard?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Do you have this song?"

"I have it in English."

"Good."

"Why's that good? You hate this sort of music."

"It's okay tonight," Vince said, snuggling against Howard's chest and swaying slowly against him. "And it's the first song we've danced to together as husband and husband, so it's kinda ours now." He sounded drowsy, and Howard kissed his forehead.

"Yeah, I suppose it is."

"What's it sayin'?"

"She's singing about how her love has come along at last."

"Mmm, that's nice."

"Vince?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you want to go to sleep?"

Vince pulled away slightly then, looking adorably dazed. "But you haven't had your wicked way with me yet."

Howard smiled at him affectionately. "You're too tired."

"'m not." And to prove his point, he stood on tiptoe and kissed Howard longingly. Howard pulled him closer and deepened it, only to break it several seconds later when Vince's full body weight slumped against him.

He'd fallen asleep.

Howard laughed quietly to himself and scooped Vince up into his arms, carrying him back to their suite, carefully navigating the door and trying not to accidentally bash him into it. Vince mumbled against him as Howard pushed the door closed with his leg, but soon settled again when he was laid gently on the bed. Howard pulled off Vince's silver ankle boots and then covered him with the sheet, chucking the duvet onto the floor of the too warm room.

Later that night, Vince woke up and got Howard to have his wicked way with him after all.

xxxx

"I wish we didn't have to go home today," Vince said sadly from his position on Howard's lap. He leant back against him and took another bite of his strawberry jam covered croissant. They were sitting out on the balcony eating a late breakfast in the sunshine, wrapped in the hotel's fluffy dressing gowns after having taken full advantage of their bathroom's sunken bath.

Howard pressed a kiss to Vince's jaw. "I know," he said, wrapping his arms around him. "It's going to be weird."

"Back to reality – back to work."

"Urgh, don't. We could always ask Naboo for a few more days off. Lock ourselves away in the bedroom..."

Vince cheered up a bit. "Yeah?"

"Mmm," Howard replied, bending his head and kissing Vince's neck. Vince moaned and closed his eyes, protesting two seconds later when Howard pulled away to take a sip of his coffee.

"I hate you."

Howard smiled and kissed the tip of Vince's nose. "I know – I love you too."

"What's French for I love you?"

"Je t'aime."

"Hmm. Howard?"

"Yeah?"

"Je t'aime."

"Je t'aime aussi, petit homme."

Happy, Vince reached over the table to pick up some bread and cheese. "You know, I could eat like this forever. Can we come back here?"

"Course we can. We'll stay longer next time. Few days in Paris, then perhaps on to Bordeaux -"

"Where they make the wine?"

"Yep. And then we could go down to the south – visit Cannes -"

"Where they have the film festival?"

"Yeah. There's more to it than that though."

"What, like the beach?"

Howard sighed. "Vince, all these places have a rich and varied history. Don't you want to learn about -"

"I wonder what the shopping's like down there."

Howard swatted Vince gently round the head. "Fine, we'll go shopping and stuff ourselves with bread and cheese and pastries and lie on the beach sipping cocktails."

"Thanks, Howard."

"yeah, yeah."

Vince looked at him seriously. "No, I mean it. Thank you. For everything. I've never been happier in my whole life."

Howard cupped Vince's cheek and ran his thumb over the soft skin. "Me neither."

There was a knock at the door, and Vince slid off Howard's lap to answer it. He returned clutching a brown envelope.

"What's that?"

"Dunno. The porter just gave it to me." Vince sat back down and opened it, pulling out what was inside. He gasped and grinned excitedly. "Our wedding photos!"

Howard put down the piece of brioche he was eating and wiped his hands. "Let's see."

"Aw, that's a nice one," Vince said, pointing to one of the two of them looking into each other's eye with coy, loving smiles. "Look at you all handsome."

"Me? You're the gorgeous one. We'll have to go and buy some frames."

Vince laughed.

"What?"

"Nothing, I – that just sounds like such a couple-y thing to do."

"Oh. Sorry."

Vince should've known that Howard would take that the wrong way. "I didn't mean it like that, it just feels weird cos it's so new. But that's good. It's exciting."

Howard hugged Vince tightly and watched as he stretched his hand out in front of him, his ring glistening in the light.

"You know, I've been thinking -"

"Careful."

"Ha ha. Seriously, I've been thinking – can I change my name?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, now that we're married, I thought I could double-barrel mine with yours. Noir-Moon."

Howard was shocked and more than a little touched. "You want to take my name?"

"Yeah. That all right?"

"I'd be honoured," Howard said, giving Vince a big kiss and making him sigh with contentment. Then Vince studied his ring again and chewed his lip in thought.

"How did you manage to get the right size?"

Howard smiled. "I just know you too well."

"I guess you do. It's beautiful."

"Certainly is."

Vince turned as he heard a low growl in Howard's voice, and caught the suggestive look on his face.

"Once more for the road?"

Howard stood, lifting a giggling Vince up in his arms and carrying him indoors.

"Oh, absolutely."

**xxxx**

**TRANSLATIONS:**

**1. "Vince, you idiot. My mum teached French, remember?"**

**2. "Mr Moon?"**

"**Yes, hello."**

"**You speak French?"**

"**Yes." Howard smiled, and let the driver help with their luggage. "You must be Claude. My uncle told me about you. He said you were his best driver."**

"**Your uncle is a good man."**

**3. "Hello."**

**Good afternoon, sir. Do you have a reservation?"**

"**Um..." Vince spun round and nearly bashed straight into Howard, who chuckled kindly at him and turned to the bemused clerk.**

"**Good afternoon, sir. My uncle, James Moon, has a room booked for us. It's under -"**

"**Oh, yes! You must be Howard. He said you were coming. Please, let me show you up personally."**

"**That's very kind of you, thank you."**

**4. "Can you speak English? Sorry, Vince can't speak French."**

**5. "Type? Ones who dress like futuristic prostitutes with big blue eyes you can drown in and..."**

**6. "Oh, I am so sorry madam! Please, let me help you."**

"**No damage done, young man. Thank you," the lady said, as Howard replaced the items back into her bag and handed it too her.**

**7. "I... ****I think I've fallen in love with you. I don't know how, or when, but I have. I love you. Oh, God. I love you. I adore you."**

**8. "You're my shining star. My everything. Whatever happens from this moment onwards, I'll never forget tonight. I wish I could tell you all this in English. Although, I might then possibly die of embarrassment."**

**9. "Excuse us, we're just leaving," Howard said to the guard, and he quickly took hold of Vince's hand and pulled him over to the lift.**

**10. Howard tried his best not to sound **too** annoyed. "What is it?"**

**The porter seemed to relax slightly upon hearing his native tongue. "I was told to deliver this letter to you as a matter of urgency, sir."**

**Howard took the envelope from the porter's hand, looked at it – and tried not to scream at him.**

"**This isn't for me. That's not my name and you also have the wrong room. Try the one behind you."**

**The porter looked horrified by his mistake, and red a very deep shade of red as he looked at the door behind him. To be fair, the names of the two suites were very similar, but still.**

"**Oh, oh sir, I am so sorry. Please, forgive me. It is only my second day and -"**

**Howard held a hand up to stop him. "It's fine. Now, goodnight." **

**11. "You have no idea how much I want you, how much you turn me on. I want to taste every single bit of you, feel you writhe beneath me, watch you as you come. I want you, all of you."**

**12. "Yes, sir, everything's going to plan. Yes, it will be perfect."**

**Magrets de Canard aux cerises, the meal Vince and Howard have for their wedding dinner, is duck breast with cherries.**


End file.
